Learning Curve
by Elea24
Summary: In his desperation to impress his brothers, a young Amrothos lands himself in trouble.


Learning Curve 

Amrothos stood in the middle of his bedchamber floor attempting once again to lift the sword with his right hand. It was one of the lighter swords from the armoury -the kind that his eldest brother used- but, nevertheless, it was still of considerable weight for a boy of seven to manage.

He tried again with just the one hand, holding the hilt with the point touching the floor, but could only manage to lift it a few millimetres upwards. He tried two hands again and with a monumental effort, and some rather precarious wobbling, he could just about manage to swing the tip of the sword upwards so that it was above his head, the hilt clasped between his hands in front of him.

He was getting better at it. He was convinced he was. Soon he would be just as good as his brothers, or perhaps even better, and then he would be allowed to join their sparring training.

A shrill noise resonated down the corridor.

"ROOORTHOSSSS! ROOORTHOSSSS!"

It was his sister. She was yelling for him in that indolent way that two-year-olds often do when they want, or expect something.

Desperately he looked around for somewhere to hide the sword. No one but he knew that he had dragged it from the armoury three nights previously when everyone was asleep.

As swiftly as he could manage Amrothos staggered over to his bed with the sword in tow and just about managed to shove it underneath the pillow before his sister pushed the door open.

Lothiriel stood in the doorway in her nightdress and slippers, her mother's shawl tucked under her right arm, grinning at having finally found her brother.

"Rothos, play horses?"

"No." He bit the words out as he turned to glare at her. "Go away, Lothiriel. You know that you are not to be out of the nursery by yourself. You are being very naughty."

He wanted her gone. He wanted her out of his room so that he could go back to his sword practice. There was no way that he was going to play silly baby games when he had more important, more grownup, things to do. If he shouted at her, hopefully it would encourage her go away, even if he had to make her cry in the process.

His anger started to build as he scowled at his sister. Little did he realise that most of it could be attributed to his almost being guiltily caught in the act of his wrongdoing.

Lothiriel shook her head. "I not naughty," she replied blithely, totally confident of her words.

"Yes you are! You are a silly girl and I do not want to play, so go away."

A thunderous scowl marred Lothiriel's features. "You naughty."

"Well, you are annoying. So go away and leave me alone."

"No," she pouted defiantly. "Want to play."

"Alright. Fine! If you will not go then I'll just go and find someone to take you back to the nursery," he yelled, marching past Lothiriel into the hallway."

It was a mistake.

What Amrothos had not realised was that the tip of the sword he had hastily shoved under his pillow was sticking out. Nor could he have envisaged that once he moved away from blocking its view, Lothiriel would run forward to investigate the suspicious object.

The sound of Lothiriel's ear-splitting scream reverberated shrilly down the corridor. Amrothos immediately ran back into his room to find Lothiriel wailing uncontrollably, thick tears running down her face as she held her hand out in front of her, dripping red with blood.

"You are so stupid, Lothiriel! What did you do that for?" he yelled, feeling utterly helpless and scared witless.

Unfortunately, yelling did not help at all, and only served to make Lothiriel wail even louder.

"Oh, please, Lothiriel. Do not cry. Please do not cry," Amrothos begged. But it could not be stopped. Even now he could hear people running down the corridor to investigate the source of the screaming.

He was going to be in so much trouble.

Lord Imrahil and Lady Caladwen sat side by side in the sitting room of their private quarters. Amrothos stood before them, the offending sword on a table in front of him.

Amrothos was resolutely staring at his feet, determined not to see the shame in his parents' eyes; the shame he was certain there would be. He heard a sniffling noise and lifted his head just enough to glare resentfully at Lothiriel, who was tucked on their mother's lap, cradling her now bandaged hand and whimpering slightly.

This was all her fault. She was the one who touched the sword and now she was being smothered with affection. It was all so unfair!

"Amrothos," his father barked. "Your mother asked you a question."

Amrothos finally looked at his parents. His father looking stern, his mother looking anxious.

"What possessed you to take the sword from the armoury, Amrothos? What was your intention?" his mother reiterated gently.

Amrothos went back to staring at his feet. After a few minutes he managed to mumble, barely audibly, "I just wanted to be as good with a sword as Elphir and Erchirion. I know I am not allowed to practice with them, but I thought if I could be as good as they are then I might be allowed to join them." He glanced at his father's right ear, unable to look into those unreadable eyes, adding sheepishly, "I made sure I took one of the lighter swords."

Imrahil regarded his son thoughtfully. "Regardless of whether it was the heaviest or the lightest, it was still wholly unsuitable for a boy of your age to wield. If you wished to try your hand at sparring then why not come to your mother and I and ask for a training sword?

Amrothos shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Um…I…I thought if I used a proper sword it would help me learn quicker. I wanted to prove to Elphir and Erchirion that I am _not_ too young." His hands fisted in frustration at his sides. "And I can do it. I _can_," he insisted boldly. "Everyone believes I am too young, but I am not. I can be just as good as Elphir and Erchirion, I know it."

This last part was shouted hotly and Amrothos would have continued his defiant tirade had he not caught his father's stern expression.

"But what of your sister? Have you no consideration for the fact that she has been injured, and that the result of your actions were the cause?"

Caladwen reached out and put her hand delicately on her husband's. "Dearest, Amrothos is too young to be expected to mind a child of Lothiriel's age. You know how difficult inquisitive children her age can be to manage."

Imrahil looked at his wife for a few moments and nodded. "You are right, my love. Thank you for pointing it out to me." He turned back to Amrothos. "I concede that you are not to be blamed for Lothiriel's curiosity, but that does not for a moment excuse the foolishness of your actions. Lothiriel's injury could have been grave indeed and you yourself may have come to serious harm.

"But I…," Amrothos made to interrupt. Imrahil raised his palm, silencing his son immediately.

"Tell me, Amrothos, how do _you_ regard your actions? Do you feel you have acted responsibly?"

Amrothos went back to staring at his feet, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He shook his head and in a murmur that came out close to a croak said, "no, my lord. I know that I acted badly. I should not have taken the sword. I apologise and I promise not to do it again."

"We accept your apology, Amrothos. We know that you did not mean for anyone to come to harm, but nevertheless, you must realise that your actions have consequences.  
"The question now is what is to be done next?"

Amrothos glanced back at his father's ear. "I…I must make up for my actions with some form of recompense, my lord. I shall do whatever you think is best."

"Good. I am glad you have said that, son. It is an honourable decision that I would expect from any Swan Knight of Dol Amroth." For a fleeting moment both father and son were joined in pride; Amrothos at being compared to a Swan Knight by his father, and Imrahil at his son's willing acceptance of his reprimand.

"In which case," Imrahil continued, "I believe we must find some method of compensation for you to make." He glanced briefly at his wife before turning back to Amrothos. "You shall spend the day in the armoury, cleaning and polishing the armour and helms. You must do any job that is asked of you there and I shall have Master Durvagor decide when he feels you have paid adequate compensation."

Amrothos visibly sagged. Master Durvagor was notoriously strict. He doubted he would be allowed to leave the armoury before nightfall. Despite this, he stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back proudly and said, "Yes, my lord. I shall go to the armoury immediately."

He turned to leave, reaching the door just as his mother spoke.

"Just one more thing, Amrothos," she said gently. "Promise me that you will not handle weapons again without an adult to supervise you. It would distress me greatly should you ever come to any harm."

Amrothos turned back to look into his mother's kind, understanding face. His undoing. "I promise, Mama," he whispered brokenly as he promptly left the room, the feel of tears stinging behind his eyes.

Imrahil turned to his wife, shaking his head. "What are we going to do with that boy?"

Caladwen gave a weary sigh of the kind that is particular to mothers with mischievous children. "It must be hard for Amrothos to be so much younger than his brothers. Elphir and Erchirion are close in age and so spend much time together, sharing many activities. Amrothos is too young to do many of the things that they can do and yet he idolises them. I think perhaps he has the misguided notion that he has to make himself look worthy in their eyes."

"Well I have to admire him. Fancy managing to get that sword all the way from the armoury to his bedchamber without anyone noticing."

Caladwen raised her eyebrows at her husband's surprised tone. "Amrothos is very determined when he sets his mind on something. He is a lot like his father in that respect." A smirk danced across her lips. "I have no doubt that is it was just the type of feat you would have undertaken at his age."

Imrahil chuckled and shook his head. "You are right, my dear. How well you know me."

Caladwen smiled lovingly back at him before rolling her eyes to one side and sighing. "It is clear no harm was meant and evidently he is desperate to impress his brothers, but I wish he had not acted so foolishly. My heart trembles at the thought of what could have happened." She gave a visible shudder. "I realise it was right to punish him but I fear this may only make him feel more isolated. I would hate for him to feel resentment towards his brothers."

"Do not fret, my love." Imrahil took her hand in his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "That shall not happen. I shall think on the matter a little more; perhaps I will discuss it with Elphir and Erchirion.

"Thank you, dearest," Caladwen leaned across to kiss her husband on the cheek. "That would ease my heart greatly." She looked down at the little girl still huddled on her lap, sniffling lightly and mournfully nursing her bandaged hand. "Come along, darling. Why don't we go and take your grandfather his afternoon tea? You can show him your hand and tell him all about how brave you have been."

Pleased with that idea, just as Caladwen knew she would be, Lothiriel nodded and smiled as her mother carried her from the room.

Amrothos tramped back into his bedchamber wearily and threw himself onto the bedcovers in an expression of exaggerated fatigue. He felt absolutely exhausted. All day he had been scrubbing and rubbing at pieces of metal and Master Durvagor had been ridiculously fastidious, not letting Amrothos go until every plate of armour was gleaming.

True be told, he had only been in the armoury for a few hours, and Durvagor had only given him a selected number of armour to polish, but to Amrothos at least, it felt like he had been locked in the armoury for days.

He rolled over on the bed and felt something hard dig into his back. Frowning, he rolled away to find a wooden sword, previously unnoticed, at the end of his bed. Picking it up and examining carefully, Amrothos could see how superior it was to any other wooden sword he had ever seen. Instead of being merely plain and functional this sword was beautifully carved with gilded detail on the hilt and even delicate carvings along the blade. Putting the sword back down carefully, Amrothos read the letter that accompanied it.

_This sword belonged to me when I was younger. It was given to me by my grandfather Angelimir as a replica of his own. For that reason alone it is of great sentimental value to me and I learnt many a skill with it that I have later come to depend on. I am entrusting it now into your care. Use it well, my son, and when you have proved to be of sufficient skill you shall be allowed to progress to steel. _

_Your Father _

Elation coursed through Amrothos like a sweeping tide. He had been entrusted his father's sword! It was not the sword Imrahil used in battle, but still, he had something that neither of his brothers had ever been given. And it was beautiful! Oh, how magnificent it looked to Amrothos, even in its wooden form. He imagined his father as a young man, using both speed and the agility of his weapon to prove his prowess in the sparring field. He could even envisage the original sword in the hands of his great-grandfather Angelimir, slaying any opponent foolish enough to cross its path.

The jarring sound of chuckling roused Amrothos from his reverie. He looked up to find Erchirion leaning against the door frame, a ludicrous grin plastered over his face.

"Hello, brother. Did you enjoy cleaning all that armour? We heard all about your little incident," he mocked. "I have to say I am a bit surprised. After all, I know Lothiriel can be an annoying little wretch sometimes but surely you did not have to try and slice her fingers off, now did you?"

Amrothos glared at his brother and was just about to say something suitably antagonistic in reply when Elphir came up the corridor behind Erchirion.

"Erchirion! Go and get your things. Master Durvagor is waiting for us at the sparring ground. Make haste."

Erchirion grinned amusedly at Amrothos before running off down the hallway to fetch his training gear. Elphir started off down the corridor to follow his brother before he stopped short. "Well come on then," he said, looking back at Amrothos. "Are you coming or not?"

"Me?" stammered Amrothos.

"Why not?" Elphir shrugged. He smiled. "Erchirion could do with a little healthy competition." He looked down at the sword in Amrothos's hand saying, "you had better bring that with you as well," and turned to continue his stroll down the corridor.

It took all of two seconds for Amrothos to pick up his sword and run after his brother, barely concealing his whoop of delight.

A/N: By my reckoning, Elphir is aged 14, Erchirion is 12 (I imagine he was born at the beginning of the year), Amrothos is 7 and Lothiriel is 2.


End file.
